“I’m sorry,” I said.
“For what?” Muriel asked, sitting up straight and raising an eyebrow. She knew, though. I could see in her eyes that she knew what I meant.
She was giving me a chance to really apologize, and I had to take it.
“For not seeing that you’ve been looking out for me this whole time,” I said, at first to my tea, but then to Muriel’s face, looking her right in the eyes. “I’m sorry. You deserved better.”
Muriel’s smile didn’t so much as consider faltering. “You remind me a lot of a younger me,” she said.
“Yeah?” I asked, surprised. I didn’t think we had all that much in common.
“Too pretty for your own good,” she teased, breaking into a real, beaming smile. “And too sweet. But you know what? One bitter old hag is enough for this town. Let’s not make it two.”
“I don’t think you’re bitter,” I said, and I meant it. “Or old. Or a hag, for that matter,” I said. “You still seem pretty to me.”
“You’re a sweet boy,” Muriel said. “So? Are we going on a road trip?”
I paused to think.
I thought about Milo, and the hole in my heart where he belonged. I thought about how this was only meant to be a fling, it wasn’t meant to beserious, but it was. It was serious. To me, anyway.
Maybe it wasn’t, to Milo. Maybe it was easier for him to walk away.
But then I didn’t really think that, either.
I thought I wanted to tell Milo that I didn’t care if he lived in Antarctica, I’d still love him and I’d still send him cat pictures every day and I’d still fall asleep with my phone on my face in the middle of a conversation because I didn’t want to stop talking to him. I’d do it every night if it meant I got to keep him. I didn’tcare, as long as I had him.
I’d wait for whatever time he could give me because I loved him. I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else like I loved him.
I wanted him in my life.
When I looked at Muriel again, she was smiling, and her green eyes sparkled. Shewaspretty.
And she was my friend. My friend who was offering to help me.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” she said.
38
MILO
Mr. Nakamura’snew restaurant had all the hallmarks of the kind of place that’d be a huge success. Balanced between trendy and classic, with a sense of homey welcome I always associated with his places, the kind of restaurant you could take a dozen friends for dinner during the weekend or celebrate a special occasion at.
I sat at a corner table that was meant for two people, by myself, and missed Xander. I hadn’t had to eat alone the entire time I was in Otter Bay—there’d always been someone around to share with. Now I was staring down at a bowl of what looked like incredible butajiru, presented like a work of art, and I didn’t even want to eat it.
I took out my phone instead, arranging the table to get a couple of good shots. This was the kind of place that’d be all over Instagram for months when it opened to the public, and it was the least I could do for Mr. Nakamura to take a couple of good photos and post them. I still wasn’t sure I was quite the influencer Xander seemed to think I was, but any help I could give, I wanted to.
It wasn’t Mr. Nakamura’s fault Xander wasn’t sitting across from me, about to show me the half-dozen kitten pictures he’d taken since this morning. My dad had to wear the blame for that one.
“I’ve never seen you look at a bowl of food so glumly.”
Mr. Nakamura’s voice startled me, and I almost dropped my phone in my soup.
He sat down opposite me before I could say anything, in his neat black suit and a floral tie I guessed one of his grandkids must have given him.
“Eat,” he said. “Don’t worry, no shellfish.”
I smiled wryly. At leasthetook my allergy seriously. “It’s not that,” I said. “It smells incredible.”
